Mischief Alliance
by KyberWolf
Summary: Crowley is annoyed. Soon, a lot of humans are also going to be annoyed.


**So there is a very good chance that this little scene is going to be shoved into the much larger fic I'm working on (Not Over Just Yet), but I thought it could also stand alone for awhile. I've tried a new process that involves barfing onto the keyboard whatever the heaven comes to mind and then connecting the dots later. It's been interesting. It also means that I've like everything except the first chapter, so it'll be awhile. This scene is a result of it, too. Enjoy!**

Crowley was now a free demon and rarely pulled any major temptations any more. Or even minor ones. In fact, Crowley hadn't tempted anyone to do anything in quite some time. But when Crowley was annoyed, it made him feel better to annoy humans. It was so easy, so satisfying, and one could be so very creative on how to go about it.

Vending machines. Now they were worthwhile allies. People in offices and schools and Underground stations relied quite heavily on them, and it seemed few things were more irksome to humans than expecting food and not getting it. And the machines were so prone to failure in so many ways, that screwing with them was conveniently cheap on majik. Crowley barely had to think to encourage them to not accept the payment, to not give back the change, to give back four dollars in change...in pennies. That one took a little more effort, but the result was satisfying enough to cleanse a whole day of irritation. Then of course, the machine might not release the snack. Or release the wrong snack. Or release all the snacks, except the right snack. Or release the right snack, but it gets stuck on the way down. The possibilities were endless.

No one was begging scraps from this particular vending machine, the one Crowley was currently stalking. They probably wouldn't for some time, in the productive-business-office-thing building, with its workers just off lunch break. So, Crowley was trying something new. This particular machine was placed rather awkwardly, just outside a meeting room, whose doors were always open, even during meetings. Especially during meetings, for despite the recent record heat waves, many buildings in London still didn't have air-conditioning.

Crowley had a handful of what he was pretty sure were nickels. He couldn't be completely sure; he didn't bother learning currency like Aziraphale. He knew they were lower in value than quarters and the green paper stuff, which was all that really mattered.

The productive silence was shattered by a rattle and clank that echoed through the hallway and straight into the meeting room, as Crowley dropped the first nickel into the slot. A couple employees flinched, and the speaker at the projector stumbled on his sentence. Crowley allowed a short pause, then started dishing the nickels in steadily, but waiting until each one had finished its rattling before inserting the next. _Rattle, clank, rattle, clank_… after the fifteenth nickel, employees were glancing out the doorway, and Crowley allowed another pause, a grin creeping onto his face. This was a great idea. And the oreos he was targeting could be easily miracled into something Aziraphale would appreciate. Complete win win. As soon as everyone stopped looking his way, Crowley resumed paying. _Rattle, clank, rattle, clank._ Really, this machine deserved its rightful pay. Perhaps he would curse it to not release its hoard to its owners.

He'd run out of nickels. He hit the buttons for the oreos. The machine gave a plaintive beep. Perfect. Crowley jabbed the change button, and cackled inwardly as the entire load of nickels cascaded into the pickup slot, sounding like a cheerful metallic avalanche. The guy presenting had actually stopped speaking. Crowley heard the distinct sound of some annoyed generous person slipping a dollar out of their wallet, to help get this over with. That very nearly made him feel guilty, and _that_ threatened to annoy him all over again, and undo his hard work. Before Mr. Generous could get out of his seat, Crowley sauntered down the hall, taking care to make his footfalls echo more than was strictly necessary. A second vending machine greeted hm around the corner, and at the snap of two fingers, a small menagerie of coins spilled out. With these in hand, he sauntered back.

Crowley planted himself back in front of Vending Machine A, and began plunking the coins in all over again. _Rattle, clank, rattle, clank, rattle, clank_. The meeting was paused, nearly every person inside was glaring outside, a few were muttering, and Crowley could practically feel their vexation. Crowley paused one more time before dropping the very last coin, which was not a nickel. Crowley didn't know what it was. This time the oreos tumbled ungracefully into the box below, nice and loud, as they were at the very top of the selection. A single penny clattered down in change. A single person applauded as Crowley retrieved them, and was punched in the shoulder by their neighbor. Crowley gave a theatrical bow in their direction, and took his bendy frame down the hall, and down two flights of stairs, and out of the building. Now that was craftsmanship. If only Hastur could see it; he would have absolutely no clue what to make of it, which would annoy him immensely, which immensely un-annoy Crowley. Yes, it was a bad job done well. And yes, Crowley had cursed the vending machine on the way out.

By the time Crowley was a block away from the apartment, he was feeling quite cheerful, quite satisfied, and his worries had faded for the moment. The package of oreos had become a pretty little box of ornate chocolates and Crowley couldn't wait to tell his angel the story behind them. Aziraphale would pretend to disapprove of course, and maybe Crowley was enjoying himself a bit too much for something so petty. But it was totally worth it.


End file.
